Don't touch me booty
by journeyintales
Summary: To think that the pirates don't exist is like living in a bad ending tale for Alastor, but it's ok, he can still get to the port.


**The Golden Snitch, Ollivander's Wand Shop: write about a Pureblood**

 **The Golden Snitch, TGS September 1st Event: write about a character receiving their letter to Hogwarts.**

 **The Golden Snitch, Talk Like a Pirate: (word) beard, (object) sword, (dialogue) "Yah! Me harties!" / "What in Merlin's beard are you talking about? More importantly, what are you wearing?", (dialogue) "When I grow up, I'm going to be a pirate.", (object) goblet, (word) booty, (word) ocean, (word) ship**

 ** **The Golden Snitch forum, It's a bit Riddikulus:**** ** **Write about a wizard using Muggle objects. + (word) patience  
****

 **(Beauxbatons, Melusine)**

* * *

"The year was 1761.

"England was a proud and powerful nation, feared and respected by the rest of the world, especially when it came to her maritime supremacy; that was the undisputed realm of pirates.

"Buccaneers, outlaws, scallywags… the names were many and many, but however you'd call them, they were the unchallenged masters of the oceans.

"One of the most infamous was certainly Alastor _Twoblades_ Moody, Cap'n of The Phoenix, the most known and feared vessel of the northern seas.

"Over the years, Twoblades (who had earned that name from the two swords he had always wielded in battle before losing a hand and having it replaced with a hook) had managed to gather a large crew, made up of the most brutal and dangerous men that one could find.

"That night, after they boarded a Spanish galleon, Twoblades decided to allow the defeated Spanish Captain the honor of a duel before making him walk the plank."

Little Alastor, wearing an eye patch and a fake beard, wielded his sword with his right hand and holded a hook in his left one and tossing them in some maneuvers that he deemed intricate enough to be lethal, he pretended to push his opponent against the mast. "No quarter, ye bilge rat!"

With his hook, he hit the wall, in his imagination pinning his opponent's sleeve on it as he moved his blade to their chest. "Yo-ho-ho, I won. Me harties, take him—"

"Alastor? What's happening? Are you alright?"

The boy looked at his hook and his sword, evaluating them, and he was about to hide them—and a few other items—under his bed when his mother entered his room.

He discreetly shifted to cover the hole on the wall as she looked around and took it all in.

"Alastor? Were you speaking to someone?"

He flashed her a pleased grin. "Yah! Me harties!"

"What in Merlin's beard are you talking about? More importantly, what are you wearing?" she asked.

"I'm a pirate," he proudly stated. "And there are the things a true pirate needs. Look, that's me booty—" He pointed at a pile of silverware that he had clearly stolen from the kitchen. "And that's me ship and, obviously, me harties—my crew." He gestured at a big cardboard box on which he had scrawled some figures..

She looked at them and a flash of worriness crossed her face as she spotted, among the other precious things that formed the booty, her set of crystal goblets that she only used on special occasion. Ah, she sighed, did she need so much patience with her son!

He waved his hook. "When I grow up, I'm going to be a pirate. And I'll have an eye patch, a hook, and a wooden leg, and everyone's going to fear me because my scars will show them I'm a fighter and a survivor, and no one can beat me."

He had heard about people called privateers who were outlaws—and that was fine as Alastor liked to think with his own mind—but didn't act only for their own interests—and he liked this; it felt a noble and kind thing to do.

She looked at Alastor, amused. "You do know you're going to attend Hogwarts, right?"

He shrugged. "I'll have my scars—maybe even some tatoos—and I'll be infamous." He had shown some sign of magic, but it was far too busy having fun with his Muggle toys that he didn't dwell on it.

She shook her head, smiling. "So… _harty, booty…_ was that pirate slang?"

He grinned. "Yes. You can't be a true pirate if you don't talk like one. I'd actually need a parrot too."

"How about a owl? I fear parrots are not allowed in Hogwarts—" she said, a significant smile on her face.

"That's my—" He reached for his sword which he had dropped and aimed it at his mother. "Give me that or I… I'll keelhaul ye!"

She laughed. "I thought you didn't care about Hogwarts."

He glared at her.

"Come on, me lad. Toss me a sword and tell your crew to stand back."

"En guarde!"

She hid the letter behind herself. "How will you manage to mix piracy and magic?"

"Oh, I will."

* * *

 _Clack clack._

His wooden leg tapped on the ground of the cemetery, the reverb sounding dangerous and menacing in the silence, as his blue eye moved around frantically searching, searching…

He turned right, then left and he finally stood in front of a white headstone. He took his hat off.

"Hi, Mother. It happened again," he said, touching his mutilated nose, "but it was worth it. Another cell is full now."

His mother's portrait on the stone was smiling. It was not her mischievous grin from the day they had sparred over his Hogwarts letter, but a more motherly one which said, "I'm proud of you no matter what."

"I-I did it, you know. The other day, I was in the Ministry of Magic and some woman thought I was a real pirate—it wasn't as satisfying as I'd planned it would though. I guess it's because the story is different now.

"Alastor _Madeye_ Moody is famous, but he's not infamous.

"He doesn't have a booty or a crew.

"He may have some mateys if he trusted, but they are neither cruel nor brutal.

"He has a wooden leg and a wooden stick—no swords.

"He doesn't have an eyepatch…

"The list goes on and on."

His mother was still smiling in her frame.

"We'd actually need more pirates and privateers, Mum. It would be easier if I had no laws and no moral code. As it is, I don't think I'll ever dare keelhaul anyone or force him to walk the plank—even if some of those bastards'd deserve it.

"I don't regret the scars or the missing parts from my body, but killing an enemy was much more satisfying when I was younger because it led to some ending—happy ending, I guess.

"We don't see any now."

Leaning on his staff, Alastor turned to leave, his magical eye still fixed on his mother's grave. "But it's ok. I'm a survivor and I'm strong. I can—I will—get to the port in spite of all of them.

"I'm still Alastor _Madeye_ Moody, Cap'n of The Phoenix after all. I always get what I want."

* * *

Booty = ill-gotten goods

Me = my

Ye = you

Harties = sailors

Keelhaul = a form of punishment

Matey = good friend


End file.
